


I don't care what people say when we're together.

by Fedies



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Lemon, M/M, Mersigne, Oneshot, SSC Napoli, Serie A - Freeform, Slice of Life, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 23:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15327258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fedies/pseuds/Fedies
Summary: A small journey made of fragments of memory, of small moments.A journey through the history of Dries and Lorenzo, as it is now.The two Napoli strikers are a couple, more united and crazy than ever, and I decided to tell it through some of their moments.





	I don't care what people say when we're together.

Lorenzo has lost count of all the imprecations he has launched within a minute.  
The game is almost over, the referee whistles just at that moment, does not understand the sense of the foul from behind that idiot of the Sampdoria midfielder did.  
He runs his hands over his face, his back clinging to the grass, while on his face he has a grimace of pain.  
Fuck.  
He would say it in all the languages of the world but he, with languages, has always been denied.  
He massages his ankle with irritation, is about to make a sign to the bench to bring him some ice when he sees agile legs, covered by his own shorts, bending down to crouch beside him.  
On these however there is the number 14.  
He tightens the hand that Dries hands him and sits back.  
They exchange a smile full of meaning.  
Lorenzo does not remember a single time when it was not Dries who held out his hand to put him back on his feet after a fight.  
It is so in the field and also outside.  
How lucky was he to meet him?  
"Is it possible that you always have to throw down?" The Belgian asks him, with his usual accent that Lorenzo finds very tender.  
Of course, that thought is known only to the two of them, otherwise the reputation of the Neapolitan scugnizzo would lose considerably.  
"It's because I'm too strong," boasts Lorenzo, catching his breath.  
Even today he ran a lot.  
Dries chuckles and begins to hack with ice spray, pulling off socks and boots.  
Lorenzo knows that the whole situation may seem strange in the eyes of fans, journalists and people in general - a teammate who takes such an amiable attention to him is quite unusual - but he does not care, not now. He just wants to enjoy Dries and his care.  
"Ever thought of changing jobs? I can see you well as a sexy cross nurse "  
They glance mischievously.  
"Do you want to play doctor and patient?" Dries asks, amused.  
"Why? Is that a bad idea?" Insigne's tone seems almost innocent.  
Reina, who is returning to the bench, hears them discuss and shakes his head, now with those two there is nothing to do.  
"It's a perverted thing," says the blond, once he has finished passing the ice on Lorenzo's ankle.  
"Then I'll find someone else willing to play with me," he replies, with an ill-advised allusion.  
He arranges the shin guards and gets back on his feet, his hand still tight in Dries's.  
The two meet face to face, their eyes bright with desire.  
"Give it a go"  
"Or otherwise?"  
"You'll find out," the Belgian whispered, looking hungry at the lips of the other.  
José decides to intervene, it's not a good idea to kiss in the field.  
He clears his throat, drawing the attention of both of them.  
"Take a room, boys"  
The two blush slightly and set off towards the tunnel, while the Spaniard behind them laughs at them.  
As soon as they step into the locker room - messed up as always after a win - quickly grab their things and spin in the shower, not without being followed by the mischievous comments of the teammates.  
Dries does not even have time to open the shower water that Lorenzo slams him gently against the wall, taking away his soul with a kiss.  
"Thank you" pants against the lips of the Belgian, biting and sucking every piece of skin that comes under fire.  
Dries closes his eyes, his breathing speeded and his heart galloping, while Lorenzo takes him to heaven.  
He is thanking him for everything, Insigne. He knows he does not need to specify.  
He thanks him for having raised him after every fall, to be close to him after a victory or after a defeat, for having fought with him.  
"Never. You never have to say thank you, Lorenzo "

 

***

 

Lorenzo cursed Dries and all his boldness in presenting himself to the training with the white shirt that stood out his body.  
He could not resist Dries in his shirt and that beleaguer of a Belgian knew it well.  
"What's Lore, do not you like it?"  
He had also had the courage to ask, the gentleman, with a slap face and a mischievous smile.  
Ah Dries, what was waiting for you ...!  
Lorenzo waited patiently for all the boys to go on the pitch to start the heating, after which nothing was able to stop him from kissing the Belgian's lips and taking away the damn shirt.  
"Did you know that early morning sex is good for your joints?"  
The Neapolitan told him, breathing hard, as he tortured Dries's bare neck with his lips.  
"You do not say"  
"You might as well try, do not you?"  
When they left the locker room, fifteen minutes later, they had to dress in a hurry and the screams of the coach were soon to be heard.  
"Insigne! Mertens! But is the time to present you ?! To run with the others, come on!"  
Dries glared at Lorenzo, in the midst of a crisis of the pathology that the Neapolitan called "coach's coconut syndrome".  
When the two approached the comrades José, Raul and Cristian looked at them for a long time before bursting out laughing.  
Lorenzo looked at them, raising an eyebrow.  
"What? What are you laughing?"  
Dries also focused his attention on their bodies and after careful analysis his face became a beautiful strawberry color.  
"Lorenzo, you have my shirt!"  
Dries exclaimed, disconsolate, hiding his face behind a hand.  
Yes, on Lorenzo's back there was a large number 14 and a surname that certainly was not his.  
"And you have mine!"  
The laughter of the boys became even stronger and attracted the attention of Sarri.  
"In short, what do you have this morning -" he noted the exchange of uniforms and snorted with resignation.  
"Get in, both of you, change and make sure you put your clothes in. I want you here in fifteen seconds"  
The two darted towards the locker room, so Lorenzo could finally let himself go to a laugh while Dries still screamed: "What a shit!"

 

***

 

The friendly games that were played in the summer at the retreat in Val di Sole were Dries's favorites since he came to Naples: more intense than normal training and less stressful than official races.  
This time the opponent was the Freiburg, a German team that had escaped relegation and had to test new purchases before the start of the season.  
Nothing particularly unsurpassed, Napoli won by 3 to 1 and Dries had entered the field recently, the coach had rightly preferred to exploit in most of the game time the new recruits and the youngest of the group.  
The referee (apparently unknown, but these were details) had just whistled a free kick in their favor from a fairly interesting position and Lorenzo had immediately taken possession of the ball, while the barriers in and out of the area took shape. Now there were only a few minutes left until the end of the match.  
While the number twenty-four placed the sphere at the point established by the spray canister, Dries could not avoid dropping - again - the look on his butt.  
Initially he had felt like a sex maniac, but then Lorenzo had become his boyfriend so there was nothing to be ashamed of, right? Quite right?  
Then let's face it, Lorenzo objectively had a fantastic ass.  
Nobody could deny that great truth, according to the Belgian, as no one could afford to make public appreciations on it.  
Dries boasted not a few rights to Lorenzo's ass.  
"You're doing it again"  
On hearing the voice of Jorginho, the number fourteen jumped, finding him at his side.  
"You're looking at his ass again" specified the Italian-Brazilian, while Dries blushed dramatically.  
"It's not true"  
"Yes but!"  
With his hands in the bag, there was little to deny.  
Jorginho gave him a look of sufficiency.  
"In your favor I can say that Lorenzo's ass is ...-"  
"HEY! He's still my boyfriend, the one there "  
"Excuse Trilly, I keep my eyes right"  
The two had not even noticed that the punishment had already been beaten, finishing just above the crossbar. A few moments later the referee whistled the end of the match.  
Lorenzo approached the two with a crooked smile, shirtless after exchanging the shirt with one of the opponents.  
"What did you two talk about?"  
Jorginho vanished without adding anything else, throwing an allusive look at Dries.  
Lorenzo too looked curiously at his teammate (and life partner).  
"Then?"  
Dries put his arm around his neck and drew her to him, leaving him a fleeting kiss behind the back of his head.  
"Nothing you should worry about," he replied, smiling vaguely.

 

***

 

Lorenzo is happy.  
He does not care that he has played little, the joy of victory wipes out everything else.  
The city and the fans deserve every single instant of this 4 to 2 against Benfica, they have been waiting for this Champions League for too long.  
The San Paolo tonight seems even more beautiful than usual and Lorenzo feels at home.  
Then he sees him, smiling in the middle of the field like a child in a playground.  
The star of the evening.  
Even Dries appears even more sensational than usual on that magical night.  
When the smile of the Belgian points right in his direction, Lorenzo feels his chest invaded by a pleasant warmth.  
He does not even notice that he has approached him until he finds himself with Dries's arms wrapped around his body.  
"I'm so proud of you," the Neapolitan whispers, hiding his head in the crook of his neck.  
Dries's smile becomes even wider.  
"I want you all for me, Lorenzo"  
The way the Belgian pronounces his name makes him shiver every time, there is little to do.  
"Tonight I'm going with you, promised"  
The nights when they can stay on their own, even sleeping together, are rare and precious.  
Dries's house is free, Kat is in Belgium for the bachelorette party of a friend, and as soon as the bus leaves them at Castelvolturno the two get impatient in the car of the number fourteen, which leads quickly to Posillipo.  
"You were phenomenal, today, do you know?"  
Dries laughs, looking at Lorenzo as the most precious of things.  
"You told me a couple of times in the last ten minutes, I could get used to such sweetness!" he teases him.  
"Look, I'm sweet"  
The look of Dries is partly amused and partly skeptical.  
The "romantic" of the couple has always been the Belgian, Lorenzo in these things is denied but he always tries for him.  
"To die for, look!"  
Between a joke and another, as usual, the two find themselves under Dries's house.  
There is no one in sight so they can move with more nonchalance once they get off the car.  
Dries, whose smile has never abandoned him since the triple whistle, leans his back to the hood in the car.  
"A kiss, I deserve it, right?"  
Lorenzo complies immediately.  
He takes his face in his hands and kisses him, as he has been doing for too many hours.  
Kissing Dries is like fireworks exploding in his stomach, every time as if it were the first.  
Their mouths fit perfectly and Dries tilts his head a little to allow even deeper access to Lorenzo's tongue.  
It is like that, between a hot kiss and the other, that the two find themselves inside the house.  
It does not take long before Lorenzo's polo is thrown to the ground, followed shortly after by his partner's trousers.  
They make love and not only with the body, but also with the heart, with the soul.  
Dries turns in bed that now smells of them to kiss Lorenzo again, again and again.  
"I love you," he tells him, without hesitation, pointing his green irises in the other's chocolate.  
Those words provoked a real earthquake in the heart of Lorenzo, who after having left him another kiss responds with: "Me too, love, me too".  
"Sleep with me tonight?" asks the Belgian with the child's voice.  
Despite knowing the answer he needs to hear it.  
"And where do you want me to go?"  
Dries settles better in his arms, rubbing his nose tenderly against Lorenzo's neck as the beating of his heart cradles him.  
The Champions League has just begun and already is giving them unique emotions.


End file.
